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I'm a skeptic; hook, line, and sinker. And I suppose I wish I was not. Maybe I would have more hope. I feel like most things are believed in for hopeful purposes only. So I am skeptical. But perhaps not. Perhaps fate is true. Perhaps a reason is brewing. I itch to know. Please, someone tell me. |
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'Forever' is a big word. And some days, I am just unsure. Every day is the same. And I don't believe I can do it much longer. I am becoming sick. I put so much effort into surviving. So much time, so much passion. But I can't sense the same from across the street. Every day, I nail up my signs; "Yard Sale". Every day, I put more junk out. From across the street, I see you coming my way, and my heart skips. You browse my goods, and then just leave.. every day. But every single, pitiful day, I sit and wait. Every fucking day. |
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So.. you had this plan, right? You told me about it, not 12 hours ago. I was psyched, you were psyched. We had this. No more problems. But.. I guess you changed your mind. I'm not sure. But this plan was no more. And now, neither are we, because now you are gone. I did everything you said, and you are still gone. I don't quite understand what it is about me that is not good enough for you, or your precious time, that you must split up amongst us all. I just want you to choose me once. Just once. |
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Fuck! I would much enjoy a brain transplant.. or something. Erase my memory. Erase my thoughts. All the feelings. Every thing, and one. I cannot fucking understand why my brain morphs every social situation into some cataclysmic event that annihilates every logical thought I might have in there. For fuck's sake, why is it so goddamn hard to just say what I want, or what I feel? Maybe I'm just not cut out for these types of things. Maybe I over-analyze things to the point of distruction, and I should just stop. Sing me to sleep, you precious cherry. |